


She Only Naps on Papa

by tryslora



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Children, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Deputy Derek Hale, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Napping, Stay At Home Parent Stiles Stilinski, Writer Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 12:23:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16765084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: Stiles loves his daughter. He does. He loves her with his whole heart, to the moon and back, and he would quite literally kill for her if necessary.It’s just that right at this very second, after six hours of whiny clinginess, often verging into outright tears, he doesn’t like her very much.





	She Only Naps on Papa

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Prompt #304 - Naps - over at Fullmoon Ficlet.
> 
> Me, I'm currently jealous of anyone napping. Can I nap now? It sounds so nice...

It’s been a rough day.

Stiles loves his daughter. He does. He loves her with his whole heart, to the moon and back, and he would quite literally kill for her if necessary.

It’s just that right at this very second, after six hours of whiny clinginess, often verging into outright tears, he doesn’t like her very much.

He has a deadline. He was supposed to have edits on his third book back to his agent two weeks ago, but November has been absolute hell. Mel started teething—at least they think it’s teething, even though she’s only six months old, but then, she’s a werewolf so who knows how it’s supposed to work? The people of Beacon Hills seem to have become incredibly stupid, and Derek’s putting in long hours and double shifts at the Sheriff’s station. There’s a holiday coming up, which means the renovations on the kitchen have to be finished, so Stiles is spending every spare moment he doesn’t have a baby clinging to him trying to get that done.

His book just doesn’t rate very high on the priority list.

Neither does sleep.

He’s tried to get Mel to nap. He has. He curls up with her until she’s dozing, but the second he settles her in her crib she starts to scream all over again. So Stiles has been carrying her wrapped neatly, tucked into her baby sling all day every day, and he only sleeps during those blissful moments when Derek handles the overnight feeding duties.

It’s hell. It is absolute hell.

He hasn’t even had time to call his agent to beg for forgiveness and find a new due date. He probably should do that. Soon.

Tomorrow, maybe. If Mel stops fussing long enough for him to be able to think straight.

He undoes the baby sling so that he can move Mel from his front to his back. She immediately starts fussing all over again, flailing out small hands to thump against his back. He knows she hates it when she can’t see what he’s doing, but he doesn’t want her between him and the stove.

It’s not like dinner’s going to be fine cuisine, but there are still flames and hot liquids and oils involved, and testing his baby girl’s werewolf healing isn’t on the agenda for the day.

Which doesn’t change the fact that Mel wants to know what’s going on, and is going to loudly express her displeasure if she can’t see.

Her high pitched whines are muffled by her shoving her fist in her mouth—he knows the sound of it by now. It doesn’t help. The sound still cuts straight through every nerve, grating on his ears and seeming louder than it actually is. It digs under his skin until he’s vibrating with frustration.

When the door opens, he switches the burners to simmer, prays that nothing burns, and stalks over to meet Derek at the door.

“She’s all yours, Papa wolf.” Stiles undoes the sling again with practiced ease, swinging Mel around so she can see Derek.

Of course she giggles to see him. Of course she does.

Derek can’t even get his jacket off before he has an armful of baby girl. “Stiles—”

“It’s just—” He shoves his hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back. “It’s been a day. Another one. In a long string of days. And I’ve got dinner on the stove, and every whimper and whine is like this piercing needle through my eardrum straight into my brain.”

Mel giggles and pats Derek’s face, scraping her hand along his scruff.

Stiles slumps. “Look. She adores you. Me? Not so much.”

“It’s not like that.”

Stiles doesn’t feel like arguing the point. He’s had too little sleep and too much aggravation in the last few days... months… weeks… to really feel up to it. He just turns and walks back into the kitchen and works to get dinner finished.

While the pasta and sauce simmer, he gets Mel’s bottle warmed up and a small bowl of cereal and pureed peaches put together. Once everything’s done and on the table, he looks into the living room.

Derek is stretched out on the chaise part of the couch. Mel is curled up on his chest, fast asleep, while Derek has one arm over her back to hold her in place. His eyes are closed, his breath low and even.

“Well, shit,” Stiles mutters, his gaze dropping.

He spends days trying to figure out what Mel wants, and in the end, it’s just that she wants Derek. Not him.

He doesn’t want to wake her up, not when she’s finally napping, her breath soft and slow. He sits cautiously on the couch next to them, flinching when Derek’s eyes flicker open.

“Hey,” Derek whispers, dropping his free hand out towards Stiles. “C’mere.”

“Dinner….” Stiles protests, barely daring to vocalize in case it disturbs Mel. “I’ll just go eat. You’ve been working late hours, staying up. Sleep. Let her sleep.”

“Mm,” Derek murmurs. He somehow manages to get his arm around Stiles without disturbing Mel, and when he tugs, it’s hard enough that Stiles has to lean in close or else risk falling on them both. “You smell exhausted,” he mouths the words into Stiles’s neck.

It would feel really good, actually, if Stiles had the capability to even think about that right now.

“Let the food sit,” Derek whispers. “It’ll be fine. Nap with us.”

For a moment Stiles considers resisting. But that would honestly be biting off his nose to spite his face and he really, really, really needs a break.

He stretches out carefully next to Derek, able to stay safely on the chaise almost entirely thanks to Derek’s arm around him. “I tried napping like this with her. Why won’t she sleep on me like she sleeps on you?” Stiles mutters petulantly.

“Wolf.” Derek kisses Stiles’s temple. “I’ll give you a shirt that smells like me. Or maybe we sleep with her crib blanket and rotate blankets so she’s always got one that smells like both of us.”

It’s so logical it kind of hurts. “I should have thought of that.”

“You would, if you were awake and coherent.” Derek kisses his forehead, and when Stiles tilts his head up, the tip of his nose. “Nap now. Think later.”

It’s really hard to argue in the face of that kind of logic. Stiles naps.

**Author's Note:**

> You can sort of find me at [tryslora](http://tryslora.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. If you like the stories I tell, you might like my original serial at [Welcome to PHU](http://welcometophu.tumblr.com) which has queer characters learning how to college along with shapeshifters, magic, and all kinds of things. Hope to see you there!


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